


i want peace (well, sometimes i do)

by zari_writes



Series: i didn't know i was lonely (i wanna get better) [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Emotions, M/M, Slow Burn, paprazzi dickwads, slight description of an anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:19:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zari_writes/pseuds/zari_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, he can feel pieces slot together and finds enough peace in that one moment to drift off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. iii. i want (love, us, you, me) peace

**Author's Note:**

> i edit as i go so all errors are mine :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One: Bitty came out to his mom before he left home and while she didn’t exactly understand, she still loved him all the same. (So not all of these tears were sad but even the good kind shouldn’t be blocked.)  
> Two: Bitty came out to his dad on the phone.  
> Three: His dad is a football coach in rural Georgia.  
> Four: Bitty hadn’t called his father or returned any of his father’s calls or even bothered to check his e-mail for anything his father had to say.  
> Five: He was tired. Really, really _tired_.  
>  Six: He hoped that he would get better.  
> And finally, Seven: Eric thought that Jack was an extremely good person who’s way too tough on himself all the time.

There is an initial peace for a couple of weeks after the whole tabloid mess and the Samwell hockey team is being left in the shadows other than the occasional reference to Jack on ESPN or the shy, local paper reporter. Everything is calm.

Until one perfectly fine morning where Bitty and Jack are trying to get Bitty through the process of being checked in slow motion without him panicking and there’s a camera flash. Both the captain and blond are quick to turn around at the noise to see a photography standing in the seats, taking photos of them.

“Hey! You!” Jack’s yelling and angry and really fucking done because what is the fucking _goal_ of photographing two hockey players in the morning on the ice. Seriously.

The offending photographer simply clicks his camera a couple more times, regardless of the two evidently angry hockey players racing towards him, and then starts jumping over stands towards the exit. Bitty and Jack are literal inches from the exits when Jack brushes Bitty’s shoulder -- not very roughly but not very gently either and Bitty just stops all motion. Frozen with a fear that isn’t actually there. The blond’s jaw is locked and his eyes are staring straight ahead at something past the stands and glass. Thankfully, he hadn’t passed out but this is almost the same thing, him not responding but fully aware of what was going on. Jack forgoes chasing the photographer, regardless of the asshole taking more photos, and tries to talk to Bitty.

“Bitty...Eric...c’mon. I swear to God, I wasn’t trying to check you. It was an accident, I swear. I’m sorry…” And it goes on like that for a while. Jack constantly apologizing to silence and Bitty just breathing. It’s only minutes but later, Bitty tells Jack it felt like forever.

Things like that don’t happen often for Bitty. Not since they started working on it and Dr. Braunstun had been talking with Bittle about it. But those practices were with several prior warnings from Jack so that Bitty knows what is about to happen. They’d been working towards Bitty just getting them at random but predictable places but accidents like these could set them back.

Jack is too preoccupied with trying to get Bitty to calm down _please, I’m sorry it was an accident, God, I’m sorry please_ to even bother to think about the photographer who is making a very speedy getaway, thinking that he had gotten away. Doesn’t even bother to think about what they were both so urgent to stop once he manages to get Bitty out of the rink and into the Haus for coco and what Jack privately calls “Shitty and Lardo therapy” until the next day. And by then…

By then it’s much too late to do anything.

 **~  
** **\www/**

The pictures are everywhere and Bitty is embarrassed to say the least. Not just because of what the headlines read ( **LOCAL HOCKEY HERO WITH NEW FLAME: TEAM ROMANCE?** ) but because of the picture used: It’s of the two of them (‘them’ being Jack and himself [which is embarrassing in it of itself, God, now he’s _blushing_ ]) during Bitty’s...attack. Jack has his hands on Bitty’s shoulders, mouth moving in “some semblance of a prayer or apology” (or so says the magazine [ _oh my Lord, why me_ ]) and Bitty is just staring straight ahead, back ramrod straight and jaw locked.

Needless to say, it wasn’t Bitty’s shining moment at all. And to make matters worse, Jack in that most Canadian-esque way of his (God bless his hockey playin’, maple syrup likin’, pop culturally unaware, lovely little heart) continues to _apologize_. And no matter how many times Bitty says that _it’s okay Jack, honest; you said it was an accident and it was an accident, so_ stop _it_.

It’s all very confusing and it’s making his hackles rise every time he walks through campus and people point and stare so it just makes him paranoid and stressed and what does Eric Bittle do when he’s stressed?

He bakes.

Bitty is well into his second pie (some kind of maple syrup and apple pie mixture that he isn’t sure where it came from) when he realizes he’s down to his last stick of butter. Huffing a sigh, he calls up the stairs to let whoever is in the Haus that he’s going out and will be back and that if they need something that they should text him otherwise it’s not happening, grabs his coat and walks out the door with intents to just purchase a shit ton of butter and then be back, no problem.

**~**

There are problems.

When Bitty comes back to the Haus, he does not expect an actual sea of people on the front lawn trying to get into the Haus. He also doesn’t expect for anyone to recognize him as he tries to sneak to the back and climb through someone’s window.

“ _That’s the boy from the pictures_!” A voice calls out and Bitty mentally prays to whatever is up there that _this shit will_ end _goddammit_.

_Are you with Jack Zimmerman?_

_How well do you know him?_

_Are you two sleeping together?_

_What’s your name?_

_How old are you?_

_Do you actually play hockey?_

Bitty tries not to let the swell of the crowd and the increasing amount of questions and volume from said crowd affect him as he pushes forwards to get to the Haus and maybe evade the reporters and get his butter home safely. Most of this is going smoothly (okay as smoothly as it _can_ go, what with all this racket [ _Jack is napping and if they wake him up, it’s not my problem_ ]) when somebody shoves his shoulder. There’s just a ‘Hey kid, can I get a quote?’ and then a rushing in his ears and everything is _gone_. His grocery bag falls from his fingers and his world is just muffled and blurred, people and voices blending together.

“...ittle...Bittle. Bitty. _Eric_.” _Being shaken. Hm, that’s not especially nice. Maybe there was someone yelling? Wonder what’s--_

“I said, _go away. And do not come back_.” _Oh that’s Jack’s voice. It’s very warm. Wonder what’s goin’ on._

“Eric, c’mon, let’s go inside. I didn’t know this was happening, I’m sorry.” _What does this boy keep apologizin’ for? It’s not like any of this is his fault, anyhow._

“Jack-! What happened?” _That’s Shitty. What did happen, Jack? Am I missin’ somethin’?_ Their voices still sound muffled to Bitty but not as much as they were minutes ago when he was in that crowd...Was he in a crowd? Bitty blinks his world back into focus and realizes that Jack is looking at him, worriedly, while Shitty stands at the kitchen windows, emanating the kind of anger that white dads in rural America emanate when their daughters have a boyfriend.

“Wha’ happened?” Bitty asks, his voice coming out a bit slowly. His throat and lungs hurt, like he’s been running really hard. Jack worries his lip before explaining how Bitty had a panic attack and how Jack had been sound asleep, taking a nap he definitely needed, and how he only woke up when he heard the reporters yelling at Bitty. Jack continues to apologize and apologize and say how sorry he was _Oh my God, Eric, I didn’t mean to sleep through that I was just so tired and then I woke up and you were out there and I’m so sorry._

“S’not your fault Jack,” Bitty tells his captain as he tries to stand, steadying himself on Jack’s shoulder when the captain rushes forward to help him. “Please tell me my butter is okay.” Shitty rushes out to the front yard and back in with a slightly trampled plastic bag.

“I dunno what kind of butter you’re buyin’ Bitty, but this shit’s tough,” Shitty tries to joke, his smile a little forced but Bitty smiles back, thankful for Shitty’s lightheartedness.

“It’d hafta be, what with all the baking I have planned for it,” Bitty jokes as he walks towards the kitchen island and moves mechanically, grabbing bowls and ingredients. There’s more muffled talking, a bit of arguing, and finally, a muffled resignation as one of the two seniors stomps up the stairs.

“Bitty…” Okay, so Jack lost the argument. Any given day, Bitty would engage their captain with any kind of witty banter but right now, Bitty is measuring sugar and trying not to think about what _happened outside_. “Bitty…”

“Hm…?” Bitty let’s his voice trail off, now measuring the flour into the dry bowl. A heavy hand drops onto one of his arms gently, but firmly.

“ _Bitty_.” The word is weighted and heavy in the air. Slowly, the hand guides Bitty’s hands to let go of the flour and measuring cup. Another steady, warm hand grabs his other arm and turns Bitty to face Jack.

“Hm?” It’s mumbled and weak and slightly watery, with impending tears. Jack’s eyes are filled with understanding and his face is tugged into an understanding frown.

“It’s okay. You know to just...let go.” Jack says--or rather, suggests shakily, his grip easing a bit so his hands are more like oversized shackles with more of the presence rather than the feel of being trapped. If anything, Bitty feels a lot more free. More liberated.

Jack slowly opens his arms up, still holding onto Bitty’s arms and let’s Bitty walk straight into his chest, only releasing his grip when Bitty moves to encircle Jack’s middle, smooshing his face into Jack’s solid chest even more. At first it’s quiet, the way that Jack used to cry when he was alone and trying not to be heard, and then it turns into long shuddering gasps accompanied with the occasional sob. And then…

Eric just _lets go._

The crying is still a cycle of hiccups and breaths and sobs, but it’s a bit louder and bit more emotional. Jack quietly thanks whatever is up there that Holster and Ransom have a “study buddy date” in the library and the frogs are all in their own dorms. He slowly moves the two of them towards the sofa where the senior drops the both of them down to sit/slouch/lie down. Eric keeps crying throughout all of it, just letting all of it go while he can. Months of stress, days of sadness, the anxiety filled hours of _am I good enough_ and _can I be better_ that were all hidden behind smiles and pies and care for others finally being flushed out of his system.

In between the hiccuping sobs and snotty gasps for breath, Jack learns several things about the small blond currently clutching at his t-shirt.

One: Bitty came out to his mom before he left home and while she didn’t exactly understand, she still loved him all the same. (So not all of these tears were sad but even the good kind shouldn’t be blocked.)

Two: Bitty came out to his dad on the phone.

Three: His dad is a football coach in rural Georgia.

Four: Bitty hadn’t called his father or returned any of his father’s calls or even bothered to check his e-mail for anything his father had to say.

Five: He was tired. Really, really _tired_.

Six: He hoped that he would get better.

And finally, Seven: Eric thought that Jack was an extremely good person who’s way too tough on himself all the time.

Finally, Bitty starts to hiccup slowly, breaths becoming less shuddering and labored. His chest stops heaving and the rise and fall more regulated until finally, Jack realizes blearily, that Eric is sleeping soundly. His mouth is wide open and he’s drooling because his nose is all clogged up. Jack’s shirt is clinging uncomfortably to his chest with the standard crying residue (i.e. snot, drool, dribble, tears) and his left arm is starting to go numb where Eric is laying but Jack doesn’t have the heart to move him let alone move himself to a more comfortable position so he just closes his eyes and tries not to think about how at peace Eric looks and how nice it feels to have the pressure of another body near his. Even if he can _barely_ feel the nerves in his arm tingling let alone the texture of Eric’s shirt on his skin. Somehow, he can feel pieces slot together and finds enough peace in that one moment to drift off. 

Jack smiles in his sleep. (Or so says Shitty.)

 

 

 


	2. iv. interlude: i'm not angry anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I used to be really angry."

“I used to be really angry.” The words come out in a breath more than a whisper. Eric looks up from where he’s resting on Jack’s shoulder and cocks an eyebrow.

“Wha’?” They’re both barely awake and dawn is only a couple hours away from breaking. They’d been in and out between the zones of ‘completely asleep’ to ‘I’m not asleep I’m just giving my eyes a rest’ so they won’t be exactly sleep deprived but there will be telltale dark circles under their eyes for all to see (but no one is willing to risk their necks chirping at both Bitty and Jack so they’re usually left alone).

“Before I went to--” Jack sucks in a breath and Eric puts his head back onto Jack’s shoulder and kind of snuggles back in, letting him know that it's okay to still be a bit scared to say it and that he didn't have to if he didn't want to. Jack clears his throat and curls his body slightly towards Eric’s. “I used to be really, _really_ angry.”

“Hmm.” Eric is mostly nonverbal during these early hours, too tired to make conversation but too caring to just fall asleep so he lets all his thoughts go into tiny gestures and quiet murmurs. But it’s okay with his captain because it’s around this time of night/morning/dark that Jack gets rather talkative. The conversation is unconventional at best but there is a certain kind of balance to it.

“I just felt so alone and--and sad _all the time_ so I guess getting angry was easier.” The words tumble out clumsily, quieter than their breathing. “I just felt like I was ready to explode every time I went out onto the ice or was talking with my dad or a teacher or with _anyone_ that wanted to help. Except I didn’t.” Jack breathes out a loud sigh and starts to comb a worried hand through his hair.

“And it’s not like I _wanted_ to be angry, I just wanted to say anything and avoid whatever that _empty_ feeling was because it felt _better_ than just being sad _all the fucking time_ and I _just_ \--” The words are broken off with a soft shushing noise and a warm hand on his own. Jack looks up to see Eric’s hand gently tugging at the hand Jack still has in his hair and just holding it gently like something as fragile as a glass bird or a budding flower. The blond’s gentle brown eyes are a bit clouded with early morning exhaustion but somehow alert with enough concern and caring to stop wars (or at least as far as Jack is concerned--his heart).

“Shhh, Jack, just...rest for awhile. No need t’be angry right now,” Eric tells Jack sleepily, nuzzling back into his captain’s neck. The aforementioned hockey player makes a noise of tired protest. Like someone who had been fighting too long to give it up now.

“I know but--”

“Shhhhh, Jack.” The grip on his hand tightens a tad. “The past is the past, Jack. It happened but...you don’t have to be angry anymore...or sad...or anything like that...just rest now…” Eric’s words trail off, sleepy voice dropping into soft snores and even softer breaths. As Jack begins to drift off himself, he makes a mental note to chirp Eric about his ability to just drop off in the middle of sentence. It’s funny. And slightly charming. (And maybe even a _smidgen_ adorable. _Maybe_.)

“I’m not angry now,” Jack mutters begrudgingly into Eric’s hair. “And I’m not l...lone...lo... _snfh_ …” The captain falls asleep, same as his teammate, mid-sentence. Eric snuggles in closer, content but deaf to the _almost_ confession that had left Jack’s sleepy thoughts.

In the morning, their hands are still clasped, fingers tangled like a basket holding something much more fragile than flowers or glass. The grip only loosens once, when Eric thinks that the hold is unwanted, babbling an apology.

Jack holds on tighter and smiles.  

* * *

(For the rest of the day, they’re both in constant touching distance of each other whenever they have the chance. Brushing up against one another, hands nearly holding, hips always bumping. None of the team chirps at them, a bit too awed by their peace and calm around each other.That’s not to say, though, that the official BitMan fanclub doesn’t meet later that night in Shitty’s room, trying to spy on the two ‘lovebirds’. In all honesty, Jack and Eric think it’s adorable albeit somewhat embarrassing.

[“ _Shh, guys I think they can_ hear _us._ ”

“They would hear us; you whisper really _fuckin_ ’ loud, Shits!”

“Guys, I _really_ don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Aww, live a little Chowds.”

“Yeah, what’s the harm?”

“I dunno guys, I kinda agree with Chowder on this one.”

“Chill, Dex.”

“I swear to _God;_  if you tell me to chill _one more fucking_ _time_ , Nurse--”

“ _Guys, shut the fuck up_!”

“...ma’am, yes ma’am.” “Aye aye, Cap’n.” “Your wish is my command, my Queen.”

“...”

“...”

“...We can hear you guys, ya’ know.”

“ABORT ABORT ABORT! MISSION LOVEBROS CUDDLING SCRAPBOOK IS A NO-GO--RETREAT!”])

* * *

 (Eric and Jack are not merciful enough to not chirp the rest of their team for their botched espionage the next morning and for the rest of the week. [They’re not going to really live it down. Ever.] But it’s really okay with them. Seeing their captain and their forward so fucking happy is really, _totally_ worth getting ragged on for trying to hang out on a roof and get cute pictures of the two cuddling. Really.)

* * *

 (It’s really not, but damn they’re cute together.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie, writing these little interludes is seriously fun

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently the first fic i wrote in this series could have been a stand alone. but i love this timeline so much that i wrote more. have fun.


End file.
